99 Picarats
by AbsoluteObscurity
Summary: Professor Layton discovers an ancient dong from the pre-tea-zoan era and puts it together partially in front of Luke, who is now his student at uni. There certainly had never been an article on THIS in 'Etiquette Today'... - Layton/Luke, M for a reason.


**Summary:** LAYTON DISCOVERS AN ANCIENT DILDO AND PUTS IT TOGETHER PARTIALLY IN FRONT OF LUKE. LUKE FINISHES THE PUZZLE EARLY AND DECIDES TO MAKE THE BEST OF THE PICARATS HE EARNED BEFORE LAYTON FINDS OUT. HILARITY ENSUES.

**Warnings:** SEX TOYS. EVENTUAL FUCKING. DEAL WITH IT, HOS.

**Notes:** I'd say something about having lost my dignity but I don't think I had any to begin with. If you're a RL friend reading this, sup. I'm just as tasteless as you remember, hahah. I think this was done for the Professor Layton kink meme but I don't really recall.

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From the minute that the esteemed Professor Layton had summoned Luke up to his study to the very moment that he decided to retire for his third tea break of the evening, Luke had known what it was. He had known as the Professor tinkered and prodded and tried to re-attach the various fragments from the PRE-TEA-ZOAN ERA to what he had constructed thus far. It had been his opinion that it was best to get a pair of young eyes to evaluate his work before he completed the puzzle and submitted this little slice of history to the NATURAL HISTORY MUSEUM. He could not afford to get it wrong and that certainly contributed to making the entire experience unbearable for Luke.

At this point, Luke had finally graduated college and moved on to tertiary education at, predictably enough, the UNIVERSITY TO END ALL UNIVERSITIES so he could study archaeology under his childhood mentor. It had been roughly four years since he had been under the good Professor's wing and although he found it refreshing to be his pupil again, he could not help but despise sharing the spotlight with everyone else in his class. He no longer held the full attention of Hershel Layton and it drove him absolutely and utterly mad. Layton had other responsibilities - other people to look after - and Luke couldn't stand it. So he studied harder than he ever had to buy Hershel Layton's attention, even if it was only for a moment. Luke quickly learned that the temporary euphoria of praise was followed by a crash back down to earth when Layton, as all professors tend to do, forgot his achievement and moved on to the next topic at hand.

His fellow students probably saw him as a terrible brown-noser - and who was Luke to tell them that they were wrong? He was always offering to stay behind and help Layton clear up, he would stay up late to construct a few puzzles for the man's consideration and he always made the utmost efforts to stay at least fifteen steps ahead of everyone else. So it really came as no surprise when he was summoned to the Professor's office to help the other man reconstruct an ancient artefact that had been recently shipped to him from Kenya.

"It truly has been grinding on me," the Professor had explained to his former apprentice, smiling patiently as he noticed how eager Luke was to see what he had been working on. "I cannot, for the life of me, decipher what this tool was used for. I theorize, from the blunt end that I have already finished working on, that it was used as part of a mortar and pestle- but you must understand that that is only my interpretation."

He had not noticed how the very tips of Luke's ears had gone red.

By the end of the evening, it seemed as if Luke had been uncharacteristically quiet. Even though Layton had opened three windows as soon as he saw that Luke was slightly hot under the collar, Luke's condition was not changing. After two and a half hours with minimal progress, Layton decided to put his work away. Normally he would not go to bed without solving a puzzle, but he had to keep his mind fresh, especially when he could not afford mistakes. He had just been sorting the fragments into little piles when Luke spoke up for the first time in about half an hour.

"P-Professah- I think I might stay behind for a bit and look through your bookshelf for..." he floundered for the briefest of moments before he caught himself and continued, "citations that I can use in my next essay. You can go to bed, if you want."

Hershel paused for a moment, mentally noting how tense the boy was. Well, the next paper _was_ worth about 40% of their final mark... it would be entirely understandable if Luke was nervous about it. Smiling faintly, Hershel got to his feet and ruffled Luke's hair fondly. "That's fine. I'll leave the key in the lock. Put it in the potted plant halfway down the hallway when you're done. Under the third root, if you please."

And, with that, he was gone.

The artefact still lay there before Luke, the fragments sprawled out into different sections across the older man's desk. It was so _obvious_- how could the Professor have overlooked it? With shaking hands, Luke began to fix the pieces together, his heart pounding as the worn stone locked securely in place. It was almost as if the puzzle had been there, **waiting** for him to solve it. Unable to resist a challenge, Luke spent all of twenty minutes putting the bits and pieces together. Then another ten marvelling at what Professor Layton had unwittingly put directly into his hands.

Nine inches, carved from the finest stone and ivory. The base was flared, the head was delicately carved; the exterior, when fitted properly together, was smooth.

Luke shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the reason as to why he had not stood up for the past three hours grinding gently against the fabric of his corduroy trousers. How could something so _lewd_ ever be in a place as sacred as the Professor's office? The very existence of it in a scholar's study was no less than an anachronism.

... Would he even be able to make it fit?

That was almost a puzzle in itself, Luke considered as he idly rubbed at his erection through his clothes, glancing around to assure that he was alone. It almost felt blasphemous for Luke to even dream of _touching himself_ in his mentor's office but, before he could even think about what he was doing, his clothes were off and in a heap on his Professor's floor. He was _naked_ and in Layton's office with an erection and an obscene dildo that was due to go on display at the bloody Museum of Natural History- probably under the guise of a mortar and pestle.

Gasping quietly, Luke began to rifle through Layton's desk drawers for something - _anything_ - that he could use as lubricant. He had to be careful not to move anything in his mentor's office, lest he notice something missing... Finally, his fingers closed around a small pot of balm that the Professor sometimes rubbed on his temples when he suffered from headaches.

Before he could even consider the consequences, Luke slid down to sit on the floor, fingers grasping, pulling and stroking at his length. He didn't want to wait any longer, especially now that he was practically living one of his wet dreams. Of course, in the best case scenario, the Professor would be helping him with all of this, but he just had to make do with what he had and let his imagination do the rest. So Luke closed his eyes and imagined that the long, narrow fingers of Hershel Layton were slipping down his body instead of his own- that they were the ones stroking him and easing him down onto the carpet before spreading his legs wide.

The artefact felt heavier in his hands than he remembered and, even though he was no real stranger to using various items during his 'alone time', it was still slightly daunting. What if it was too big? Surely Hershel wasn't /this/ large, even if he took the Root of Seahorse Powder that his friends kept talking about all the bloody time. Still feeling fairly apprehensive, Luke tried to distract himself with his fantasies again and only partially succeeded. He was still hard, but the doubt remained as he tried to figure out how he was going to position himself accordingly...

Professor Hershel Layton had returned to his room, washed his face, brushed his teeth, even removed his top hat for bed... and then realised, with a start, how the puzzle was meant to fall into place.

Redressing hastily- for he knew that it would drive him absolutely mad if he waited until the morning to assemble the artefact- Layton didn't even bother to put on his shoes as he padded down the stairs and through the halls in his bare feet. The night was cold and he almost wished he had put on his coat, but the thin orange top would be enough once he returned to the warmth of his office.

... The light was still on. Forehead creasing with worry as he passed the potted plant, checked for the key and noticed its absence, Layton wondered whether Luke had finished with his books or not. Had he remembered to lock the door behind him? Had he accidentally kept the key? Had he left the light on by accident? The boy had been looking a little flushed- what if he had passed out?

Concerned, the Professor finally reached the door of his office and entered without a second thought.

Luke was sprawled out on his floor, naked and facing away from him. One hand was pumping furiously at his erection. The other was holding what seemed to be the completed artefact steady as he...

As he...

The entire world ground to a halt. Professor Layton found that he had forgotten how to breathe. Luke seemed to be having the same problem as his breath hitched, keening moans leaving the back of his throat as he reached behind him, half-raised and on his knees, and readjusted his grip on the base of Layton's puzzle, trying a different angle and crying out softly as the heavy stone dragged along his prostate. One of the moans, along with several obscene words that Gentlemen definitely did _not_ say in polite conversation, sounded suspiciously like his name.

It was as though several different parts of Hershel's brain had crashed. He was frozen there, palms sweaty, hand clasped hard around the doorknob, eyes wide as the tool worked in, then out, then in a little harder, then out a little slower. His higher thought processes, if they were even working properly to begin with, tried to coach him out of the room, but Layton couldn't move. He couldn't stop listening to Luke's breathy gasps, nor the pleading one-sided conversation that was clearly directed at an imaginary version of _him_.

There certainly had never been an article on **this** in _Etiquette Today_.

Luke, after a few moments of pumping his erection hard and essentially fucking himself as well as he could, felt a shiver along his spine from what might have been the draft from behind him. Perhaps he was finally tuning into his surroundings between the moans and the obscene gyrating of his hips. But nothing could have prepared him for the sight of Layton, _his_ Professor Layton, finally closing the door behind him, eyes fixed on his naked form.

"P-Professa-aah-"

His heart had stopped as soon as his hands did, still clutched around his length and the primitive sex toy that was halfway inside of him.

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**This has been sitting around on my computer for MONTHS. Review and give me some incentive to finish it or write your own damn ending. Also, yes, I know what university Layton works at. I don't care enough to change it.  
**


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